The "we”and "our”made clear from the beginning that the resourceful stringer-fixer intended to be part of the expedition.”You will need me,” he stated simply.”I have been in the Selva many times. I know its ways.” When Partridge felt obliged to point out there would be danger, Pabur shrugged.”All life is a risk. In my country nowadays, getting up in the morning has become one.”
Air transport was their principal concern. After disappearing for part of Thursday morning, Fernandez returned and, collecting Partridge and Rita, took them to a one-story brick building not far from Lima's Airport. The building contained several small offices. They approached one which had on its door ALSA—AEROLIBERFAD S.A. Fernandez entered first and introduced his companions to the owner of the charter flight service, also its chief pilot, Oswaldo Zileri.
Zileri, in his mid to late thirties, was good-looking and clean-cut, with a trim, athletic build. His attitude was guarded, but businesslike and direct. He told Partridge, "I understand you intend to pay a surprise visit to Nueva Esperanza, and that is all I need, or wish, to know.”
"That's fine,” Partridge said, "except we hope to have three more passengers flying back than we will have going out.”
"The airplane you are chartering is a Cheyenne II. There will be two pilots and room for seven passengers. How you fill those seven seats is your affair. Now, may we talk money?”
"Talk it with me,” Rita said.”What's your price?”
"You will pay in U.S. dollars?” Zileri queried.
Rita nodded.
”Then the regular price on each round trip will be one thousand four hundred dollars. If there is extra time at destination, required for circling, there will be an additional charge. As well, for each landing in the vicinity of Nueva Esperanza which is drug country controlled by Sendero Luminoso—there will be a special danger fee of five thousand dollars. Before we leave on Saturday, I would like a six-thousand-dollar cash deposit.”
"You'll have it,” Rita said, "and if you write all that out, making two copies, I'll sign, and keep one.”
"It will be done before you leave. Do you wish to know some details of my air service?”
"I suppose we should,” Partridge said politely.
With a touch of pride, Zileri recited an obviously standard spiel.”The Cheyenne II—we have three—is twin-engined and propeller-driven. It is a remarkably reliable aircraft and can land in a short space—important in the jungle. All our pilots, including myself, are American-trained. We know most regions, of Peru well, also the local flight controllers, civil and military, and they are used to us. Incidentally, on this flight I will be piloting you myself.”
"All that's fine,” Partridge acknowledged.”What we also need is some advice.”
"Fernandez has told me.” Zileri went to a chart table where a large-scale map of the southern portion of San Martin Province was spread open. The others joined him.
”I've assumed you will want to land sufficiently far 'from Nueva Esperanza so your arrival will not be noted.”
Partridge nodded.”Assumption right.”
"Then, on the outward journey from Lima, I recommend landing here.” With a pencil Zileri indicated a point on the map.
”Isn't that a roadway?”
"Yes, the main jungle highway, but there is little traffic, often none. But at several points like this one it's been widened and resurfaced by drug shippers so that planes can land. I've landed there before.”
Partridge wondered for what purpose. Conveying drugs, or people who dealt in them? He had heard there were few Peru air operators who were not involved with the drug trade, even if only in peripheral ways.
”Before we go in to land,” Zileri continued, "we will make sure the highway is not in use and there is no one on the ground. From that point a rough trail goes close to Nueva Esperanza.”
Fernandez interjected, "I have a good map where the trail is marked.”
"Now about your return with extra passengers,” Zjieri said.”Fernandez and I have discussed this and have a suggested plan.”
"Go ahead,” Partridge told him.
The discussion continued, decisions and salient facts emerging.
Three possible pickup points existed for the return journey. First, the bighway where the initial landing was intended. Second, Sion airstrip which, after 'leaving Nueva Esperanza, could be reached by river, plus a three-mile overland journey. Third, a very small landing strip, used by drug traffickers and known to few people, midway between the two; that, too, was reached mainly by river.
The reason for options was, as Fernandez explained, "We do not know what will happen at Nueva Esperanza, or which way will be clear, or best, for us to leave by.”
The airplane making the pickup could easily pass over all three places and respond to a signal from the ground. Partridge's group would carry a flare gun with green and red flares. A green flare would mean: Land normally, everything is clear,— a red flare: Land as quickly as possible, we are in danger!
If close—in rifle or machine—gun fire was observed from the air, it was agreed that the airplane would not land, but would return to Lima.
Since it was not known exactly when the return flight would be required, an airplane would be sent to fly over the area, first on Sunday morning at 8 A.m. and, failing any contact between ground and air, again on Monday at the same time. After that, any action would be decided by Rita who would remain in Lima during the expedition and in touch with New York, an arrangement Partridge considered essential.
At the end of operational planning, a contract was signed by Rita, on behalf of CBA News, and by Oswaldo Zileri, after which Zileri and the CBA trio formally shook hands. Looking at Partridge directly, the pilot said, "We shall keep our part of the agreement and do our best for you.”
Partridge had an instinct that he would.
* * *
After making the air arrangements, and returning to Cesar's Hotel, Partridge held a meeting in his suite with all. the CBA group members to decide who would make the Nueva Esperanza journey. Three definite selections were: Partridge; Minh Van Canh, since some visual record was essential; and Fernandez Pabur. Allowing for three extra passengers returning, this left a fourth place open.
The choice was between Bob Watson, the TV-video editor; the sound man, Ken O'Hara; or Tomis, the mostly silent bodyguard.
Fernandez favored Torads and had argued earlier, "He is strong and can fight.” Bob Watson, smoking one of his pungent cigars, urged, "Take me, Harry! In a brawl, I kin take care of myself. Found that out in Miami riots.” O’Hara simply said, "I want to go very much.”
In the end, Partridge chose O'Hara because he was a known quantity, had shown he could keep his head in a tense situation and was resourceful. Also, while they would not be carrying sound equipment—Minh would use a Betacam incorporating sound—Ken O'Hara had an instinctive way with anything mechanical, an asset that might prove useful.
Partridge left Fernandez to organize equipment and under his direction the items were accumulated in the hotel: lightweight hammocks, mosquito netting and repellent, dried foods sufficient for two days, filled water bottles, water sterilizing tablets, machetes, small compasses, binoculars, some plastic sheeting. Since each person would carry his own requirements, using a backpack, a balance was struck between necessity and weight.
Fernandez also urged that each carry a gun and Partridge agreed. It was a fact of TV life that correspondents and crews overseas sometimes went armed, though keeping weapons out of sight. Networks neither condoned nor discouraged the practice, leaving it to the judgment of people on the spot. In this case the need seemed overwhelming and was aided by the fact that all four who would be going had had experience with firearms at various points in their lives.
Partridge decided he would stay with his nine-millimeter Browning, with a silencer. He also had a Fearsum commando "killing”knife, given him by a major in the British SAS.
Minh, who would have camera equipment to carry as wel
l as a weapon, wanted something powerful but light; Fernandez announced he could obtain an Israeli Uzi submachine gun. O'Hara said he would take whatever was available; it turned out to be a U.S. M-16 automatic rifle. Apparently any weaponry was purchasable in Lima, with no questions asked of those who had the money.
* * *
Since Wednesday, when he had learned that Nueva Esperanza was the target, Partridge had asked himself. Should he inform the Peruvian authorities, specifically the anti-terrorism police? On Thursday he had even gone back for advice to Sergio Hurtado, the radio broadcaster who had warned him not to seek help from the armed forces and police. During their meeting on Partridge's first day in Peru, Sergio had said: "Avoid them as allies because they have ceased to be trustworthy, if they ever were. When it comes to murder and mayhem, they are no better than Sendero and certainly as ruthless.”
Speaking in mutually agreed confidence, Partridge informed Sergio of the latest developments and asked if the advice was still the same?
"If anything, stronger,” Sergio answered.”In exactly the kind of situation you are looking at, the government forces are notorious for going in with maximum firepower. They take no chances. They wipe out everyone, innocent as well as guilty, and ask questions after. Then, when accused of killing people wrongfully, they'll say, 'How could we tell the difference? It was kill or be killed.' “
Partridge was reminded that General Rafil Ortiz had said much the same thing.
Sergio added, "At the same time, going in as you plan, you are taking your own life in your hands.”
"I know,” Partridge admitted.”But I see no other way.”
It was early afternoon. For the past few minutes, Sergio had been fidgeting with a paper on his desk. Now he asked, "Before you came here, Harry, had you received any bad news? I mean today.”
Partridge shook his head.
”Then I'm sorry to give you some.” Picking up the paper, Sergio passed it across.”This came in shortly before you arrived.”
"This” was a Reuters news dispatch describing the receipt of Nicholas Sloane's fingers at CBA, New York, and his father's broken-hearted grief.
”Oh, Christ!” Partridge was suddenly overwhelmed by anguish and self-reproach. Why, he grieved, had his own planned action not been undertaken sooner?
"I know what you are thinking,” Sergio said.”But there is no way you could have prevented this. Not with limited time and the little information that you had.”
Which was true, Partridge acknowledged mentally. But he knew that questions about his own pace of progress would haunt him for a long time.
”While you are here, Harry,” Sergio was saying, "there's something else. Isn't your company, CBA, owned by Globanic Industries?”
"Yes, it is.”
The broadcaster slid a desk drawer open and from it removed several clipped sheets.”I obtain my information from many sources and it may surprise you that one is Sendero Luminoso. They hate me, but use me. Sendero has sympathizers and informers in many places and one of them sent this recently, hoping I would broadcast it.”
Partridge accepted the sheets and began reading.
”As you can see,” Sergio said, "it purports to be an agreement between Globanic Financial Services—another subsidiary of Globanic: Industries—and the Peruvian Government. The agreement is what's known financially as a debt-to-equity swap.”
Partridge shook his head.”Not my specialty, I'm afraid.”
"But not all that complicated either. As part of the agreement, Globanic will receive enormous amounts of land, including two major resort locations, for what can only be called a giveaway price. In return, some of Peru's international debt, which has been 'securitized' by Globanic will be reduced.”
"Is it all honest and legal?”
Sergio shrugged.”Let's say it's borderline, though probably legal. More significant is that it's an exceedingly rich deal for Globanic, a very poor one for the people of Peru.”
"If you feel that way,” Partridge asked, "why haven't you broadcast it?”
"So far, two reasons. I never accept anything from Sendero at face value, and wanted to check how accurate the information is. I have, and it's okay. Another thing: For Globanic to get anything as super-sweet as this, someone in government has been paid off handsomely, or will be. I'm working on that and intend to do a broadcast next week.”
Partridge touched the pages he was holding.”Any chance I can have a copy?”
"Keep that one. I have another.”
* * *
During the next day, Friday, Partridge decided one other matter needed checking before Saturday's departure. Had anyone else received the telephone number which had led the CBA group to the Huancavelica Street apartment, formerly occupied by the ex-doctor known as Baudelio, and now by Dolores? If so, it would mean that someone else could know the significance of Nueva Esperanza.
As Don Kettering had explained by phone on Wednesday evening, the FBI had access to the Hackensack cellular telephones immediately after their discovery by CBA News. Therefore it seemed likely the FBI would check the calls made on those phones and learn of the Lima number Kettering had given Partridge. From that point, it was possible the FBI had passed the information to the CIA—though not certain, because rivalry between the two agencies was notorious. Alternatively, the FBI might have asked a Peruvian Government department to have the number checked.
At Partridge's request, Fernandez paid a second visit to Dolores on Friday afternoon. He found her drunk, but coherent enough to assure him that no one else had been to the apartment making inquiries. So, for whatever reason, the subject of the phone number had not been pursued by anyone but CBA.
Finally, that same afternoon, through Peruvian radio, they learned the grim and tragic news of Angus Sloane's death and discovery of his severed head at the American Embassy in Lima.
Once the news was known, Partridge was quickly on the scene with Minh Van Canh and sent a report via satellite for the National Evening News that evening. By that time, too, other network crews and print-press reporters had arrived, but Partridge managed to avoid conversation with them.
The fact was, the horrible demise of Crawf's father weighed heavily on his conscience, as had Nicky's severed fingers. To the extent that he had come to Peru hoping to save all three hostages, he had already failed, Partridge told himself.
Later, after doing what was needed, he went back to Cesar's Hotel and spent the evening lying on his bed, awake, lonely and dejected.
Next morning, he was up more than an hour before dawn, his intention to complete two tasks. One was to compose a simple, handwritten will, the other to draft a telegram. Soon after, on the way to the airport in the rented station wagon, he had Rita witness the will and left it with her. He also asked her to send the telegram, which was addressed to Oakland, California.
They also discussed the Globanic-Peru debt-to-equity agreement Partridge had learned about from Sergio Hurtado. He told Rita, "When you've read it, I suppose we should let Les Chippingham see this copy. But it has nothing to do with why we're here and I don't plan to use the information, even though Sergio will next week.” He smiled, "I suppose that's the least we can do for Globanic since they butter our bread.”
* * *
The Cheyenne II aircraft took off from Lima in the still, pre-dawn air without incident. Seventy minutes later the plane reached the portion of jungle highway where Partridge, Minh, O'Hara and Fernandez were to disembark.
By now there was ample light to see the ground below. The highway was deserted: no cars, trucks or any other sign of human activity. On either side stretched miles of jungle covering the land like a vast green quilt. Turning briefly away from the controls, the pilot, Oswaldo Zileri, called back to his passengers, "We're going in. Be ready to get out fast. I don't want to stay on the ground for a second longer than necessary.”
Then, with a steep, fast-descending turn, he lined up over the highway, touched down on its wider portion, and stopped after
a surprisingly short. landing run. As quickly as they could, the four passengers tumbled out, taking their backpacks and equipment and, moments later, the Cheyenne II taxied into position and took off.
”Let's get under cover fast!” Partridge urged the others, and they headed for the jungle trail.
13
Unknown to Harry Partridge during his crowded day on Friday, a crisis concerning him erupted in New York.
While breakfasting at home on Friday morning, Margot Lloyd-Mason received a telephone message that Theodore Elliott wished to see her "immediately” at Globanic Industries' Pleasantville headquarters. After inquiry, "immediately” translated to a 10 A.m. appointment. It would be the Globanic chairman's first of the day, a secretary at Pleasantville informed Margot.
Margot then called one of her own two secretaries at home and gave instructions to cancel or reschedule all her morning appointments.
She had no idea what Theo Elliott wanted.
At Globanic headquarters, Margot was kept waiting several minutes in the senior executives' elegant outer lounge where, unknowingly, she occupied the same chair used only four days earlier by the Baltimore Star reporter Glen Dawson.
When Margot entered the chairman's office, Elliott wasted no time with preliminaries, but demanded, "Why the hell aren't you keeping better control of your goddamned news people in Peru?”
Startled, Margot asked, "What kind of control? We've been getting compliments about our coverage there. And ratings are—”
“I'm talking about dismal, depressing, downbeat reports.” Elliott slammed a hand heavily on his desk.”Last night I received a call direct from President Castafieda in Lima. He claims everything CBA has been putting out about Peru is negative and damaging. He's mad as hell with your network, and so am I”
Evening News Page 54
